


URGES

by FrenchCaresse



Series: Urges Alpha-Omega Verse [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Merlin, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Male self-lubrication, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Outdoor Sex, omega!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchCaresse/pseuds/FrenchCaresse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It just wasn't fair. Merlin sighed and looked out the window at the late-afternoon sun that washed Camelot in gold.</p><p>Gold, which was annoying because gold reminded Merlin of Arthur which reminded him of his problem which reminded him that Arthur was missing."</p><p>Written for a prompt that requested a super horny oblivious Omega and frustrated/worked-up Alpha. In which Arthur is tricked into heat and Merlin tracks him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Explosions and Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> Written for THIS PROMPT:
> 
> Alpha/Omega verse
> 
> Arthur the alpha scents Merlin's Omega's hormones/pheromones... But cannot find him. Goes mental whilst he tries to track him down all over Camelot (or Albion). Merlin is oblivious but super horny and cannot understand why.  
> Any other scenario or storyline welcomed. Freestyle as you wish. Just super horny oblivious Omega and frustrated/fucked-off/worked-up Alpha.  
> & a happy ending please.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS STORY ENDED UP WITH THE REVERSE ROLES SUGGESTED IN THE PROMPT: CONTAINS ALPHA!MERLIN AND OMEGA!ARTHUR. Thank you.
> 
> I am quite honored that this fic has been recced on the Perv Pack Smut Shack. Wow.

MERLIN

It exploded.

Again.

Shaking the droplets from his wet fringe, Merlin took a deep breath. Then another. It didn't help. Not really.

He tried again anyway.

''Sshaloawimon-Bwalee-ichma-Shit!''

Splash.

It exploded too.

Yesterday, Merlin hadn't even thought it was physically possible for WATER to explode. He knew better now.

It was a relatively simple exercise, a spell to create a floating ball of water that could then be launched at enemies. It should have been easy to master.

Except today, Merlin was in a foul mood.

So the things exploded.

Every.

Single.

Time.

As was evidenced by the totally drenched clothing clinging to his slim torso. The repeated explosions certainly didn't help Merlin's frustration any.

With a growl, Merlin tossed the bowl containing the offensive liquid. Hard. Flung it underhanded and watched it sail right out the window.

Then cringed as a shriek sounded, followed by the crash of clay breaking.

Merlin leaned his palms against the table, trying to gather some inner calm. It didn't work, not really.

Merlin still boiled inside.

It was because of the smell.

At least being completely wet throughout blocked out the scent a bit. The smell that was driving Merlin mad.

It had begun about a week before, after the banquet the Lady of the Wood-Grove had hosted in the Kings honor. Tall and mysterious and robed in transparent gauze that was frankly indecent, the High Priestess had gone on and on about recognizing one's link with Nature, being in tune with the cycles of the moon and the purity of life's instincts.

Or something like that.

Merlin hadn't paid too much attention, peering nervously into all the shifting shadows surrounding the table in the moonlit woods. Too many dangers could be hidden there, biding their time in the dark.

At least the drink had been good, and Arthur had had enough of it that he had begun to ply Merlin with his cup after a while. As he usually did when was slightly tipsy.

Not that Merlin was complaining or anything.

Still, it had been a strange night and Merlin had been most relieved to be back in the castle. That last look the Priestess-Lady had sent him was positively weird, almost amused.

Merlin had first smelled it the next morning, while making the bed in Arthur's chambers. Intoxicating, subtle; a scent like nothing he'd ever come across.

Wild and arousing.

Merlin had gotten stiff in his trousers.

He'd thought nothing of it.

But for the rest of the week, he'd kept getting random whiffs of the scent.

And the effect was always the same; Merlin wanted to go after it. Needed to track down the source of such a delectable smell and… Merlin wasn't quite sure what came after, but he was a bit afraid of the urges that rolled within him.

Merlin wasn't usually mercurial or moody.

He wasn't used to these surges of primal need.

And constantly battling the urge to –whatever- put him in a bad mood.

Anger boiled in his belly, a tight hard ball. He wanted to MAKE the smell stop, but it kept coming back, stronger every time; taunting Merlin with promises of -something. The sorcerer's helplessness at controlling his instinctive response only made the frustration worse.

So he couldn't concentrate.

And spells exploded.

With a splash.

A wet splash.

A cold wet splash.

***  
Merlin had barely slept in three days, plagued by dreams of tall knights and busty maidens who toyed with him and dissolved into mist right before he spent. Again and again he woke with a gasp, sweaty and unsatisfied.

Trying to relieve himself in desperate shameful fisting had somehow only stoked the fire. As Merlin spilled wetly over his fingers, unfulfilled instincts only increased in strength; his hand was not what he wanted, was not what he needed and he nearly wept at the frustration of it all.

Merlin had tried to continue his work, tried to go about his daily business. No one need know he had transformed into a lecherous angry creature.

The burden of keeping a calm façade had grown harder and harder to bear as the week advanced.

Everything bugged Merlin; his scratchy clothing, Morgana and her perfect luscious hair, Lancelot and his ridiculously perfect behind, Arthur and his stupid perfect lips and perfectly tousled hair and perfectly blue eyes and the sound of clinking when he walked and just everything that was so…Arthur.

Arthur had certainly not helped Merlin remain calm. He'd been distant and cold, pulling into himself as he used to before he'd come to trust Merlin. As the week progressed, he'd become increasingly agitated, rather like Merlin himself.

The Prince threw himself into training, until sweat drenched his body and he could barely stand. He argued with his father, rode the horses to exhaustion, had fits over nothing and was generally impossible to please.

To top things off, for the last two days, he had coldly refused that Merlin draw his bath every night. Merlin felt hurt and disappointed; Arthur's bathing was a calming private moment. A comforting time of ease. A together moment, where Merlin actually felt useful and Arthur finally relaxed.

Instead, Arthur had taken to dousing himself with a pail of ice-cold water from the stream, rough and shivering, before dismissing Merlin for the night.

It shouldn't have bothered Merlin, it really shouldn't.

Except he was already bubbling with frustration and having Arthur locking him out and regressing back to being a prat was almost too much.

Merlin had to bite his lip to keep the scathing comments down. Really physically bite his lip and stand stiffly by the door until he could finally go.

Otherwise he might just grab the crown prince and smack him good, wipe the arrogant smile from his face. Or bend him over the table and spank the twat.

The thought was disturbing, as Merlin had never experienced the urge to apply physical violence towards Arthur before. Sure, he was annoying. But Merlin had never actually quivered with the urge to just seize him and… Images pulled from his lusty dreams blended with the fantasy of punishing Arthur and Merlin blushed furiously, thankful Arthur couldn't read his mind.

Merlin's temper was made even more volatile during those moments before bed because the smell was so much worse in Arthur's chambers.

Although Merlin had searched the place thoroughly, again and again, he had never found anything out of the ordinary to explain the odor.

Merlin shivered, pulled back to the present by the cold. The rough wet cloth of Merlin's trousers was beginning to chafe against his privates. With a sigh, he pushed away from the table and climbed the steps to his chamber.

Changing into dry clothing didn't help the irritation just boiling inside and Merlin's hands shook quite badly.

Sighing again, he knew he would have to go to Gaius.

He couldn't continue this way. Something was going to happen, something huge and terrible. Merlin's magic stewed inside him, straining at his control.

His rod was hard, pulsing and demanding when he freed it from the wet wool. Merlin's long fingers squeezed- a punishing clench.

He was rather awed at how potent it felt, angry red and so full of blood. Merlin had never been ashamed of his equipment before, but he'd never seen himself quite so… vigourous.

With a final exasperated sigh, Merlin awkwardly shoved the swollen length into his pants, wincing. His member protested, throbbing.

In a fit of frustration, Merlin tugged his laces tight.

Then tighter.

Somehow, the action made him feel better. To be able to contain his tumescent organ was strangely satisfying after a week of being buffeted by passions out of his control.

Merlin groaned at the bite of the crisscrossing leather, feeling his member pushing back, pulsing painfully against the bindings.

Patting the front of his straining breeches, Merlin quietly savored the ache for a moment. Then he wiggled into his tunic, thankful for the cloth that covered the sight of his depraved arousal.

Merlin walked briskly, ignoring the tremble in his thighs, as headed toward the royal apartments to seek Gaius.

Something needed to happen.

Merlin had reached his limit.

He felt as though he might explode at any moment.

Explode.

Like the damn spheres of water.

Ha.

It would have been funny, if only Merlin wasn't struggling so hard against the urge to kick something.

***

Merlin found the palace in turmoil when he entered. Servants ran every which way, a patrol of clunking guards nearly ran him down and there was a feeling of tension in the air close to frenzy that made the hair on his arms stand up.

''Gaius.''

Merlin finally found his mentor, hurrying towards the throne room so fast his robes billowed behind him.

''Merlin.''

The response was short and hurried, and not at all accompanied by any visible slowing of the physician's speed.

''Gaius.'' Merlin hissed urgently, trying to catch up with the older man. ''I need… I mean I really… I… have a problem.''

Gaius looked at him over his shoulder, a piercing grey stare that made Merlin blush.

Then he pushed on the heavy wood doors with knotted fingers, marching towards the king. Just before entering the Greatroom, Gaius whispered curtly.

''Not now, Merlin.''

And really, Merlin couldn't argue with him because the King was positively seething. He paced in tight circles before the throne, and the lines in his face were deepened with anxiety. Not that he ever looked soft, but right then Uther looked decidedly terrifying.

So Merlin and his problem moved to stand discreetly by the wall, to Gaius's left.

It turned out that the reason for all the upset was that Arthur had disappeared.

Vanished; vanished without a word or a note or anything.

Just gone.

Idiot.

Merlin clenched his fists at the irrational wave of anger that swamped him at the news.

It was Arthur's fault.

Again.

Merlin had finally decided to get help, but he was stuck waiting for Uther to stop ranting at his mentor.

Because of Arthur.

Merlin didn't mean to growl out loud, he really didn't. But the shocked look a passing maid sent him, wide-eyed-terrified, probably meant he had.

He chalked the incident up as falling into the ''Because of Arthur'' category.

Which, strangely, didn't make Merlin feel any better.

Arthur was missing.

Merlin wasn't worried or anything affectionate like that. No.

He would just have to find his idiot master.

Before the others.

So he could scream at him good and long. Until Arthur begged Merlin for forgiveness.

And then the dreams were intruding again at the thought of a humbled Arthur on his knees before Merlin and surely Arthur wouldn't actually be able to swallow it *all* down and Merlin was –quite- sure Uther would have him beheaded if he guessed even half the impure thoughts running in his servant's dirty mind.

Even if they were because of Arthur.

It just wasn't fair. Merlin sighed and looked out the window at the late-afternoon sun that washed Camelot in gold.

Gold, which was annoying because gold reminded Merlin of Arthur which reminded him of his problem which reminded him that Arthur was missing.

Merlin might have growled for the second time that day. Maybe.

Now if only he could snatch a moment alone with Gaius...


	2. Fires in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how Arthur is dealing with HIS urges, shall we?

ARTHUR

Arthur, meanwhile, was roaming in the woods.

He walked between the trees, winding an aimless path on crunchy leaves.  
He supposed he would walk until his legs gave out.

Until he died of exhaustion.

Which would definitely befit the Crown Prince better than the other option.

He wondered if it was possible to die of lust? It certainly felt like it.

Arthur groaned and stumbled over a tree root. 

At least he had saved himself from a faith even worse than spontaneous combustion. 

Dying of shame was a very real possibility. Arthur was certain of it, and he had only narrowly escaped the ultimate humiliation.

That morning, it had become quite clear that Arthur could no longer pretend nothing was wrong. He had been horrified to realize he was wriggling helplessly, humping the hard chair he sat on to break the fast.

And what was even more frightening was the the fact that he really really COULDN’T make himself stop. 

Remaining still was just impossible, unless he devoted all of hisconcentration to it. The moment his control slipped a bit, the grinding started again. 

A desperate instinctive search for friction. 

Or penetration.

Just the thought of it… 

Arthur wiped the sweat from his eyes.

Everything he’d tried during the past week had had little to no effect on the fever that consumed the prince. No matter how hard he pushed his body, until his muscles screamed and he couldn't breathe, Arthur still burned. And to make matters worse, even Merlin had been irritable and edgy. 

A fine pair they made indeed.

Arthur groaned again, because even the act of walking was stimulating. He realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that he WOULDN’T be able to continue forever.

It was absolutely NOT normal for Arthur to be so aware of his body. 

Gods helps him, he could FEEL his cheeks clenching and relaxing as he walked, rubbing together just enough to drive Arthur mad.

His thighs were tight, and Arthur was sure his gait was laughably stilted. There was so much tension in his pelvis, coiling in his lower belly and clenching in his balls… He walked stiffly, awkwardly, and of course the leaking log that just refused to completely soften for the last week didn’t help.

***

Arthur was a man.

He was experienced.

He had been a teenager, gangly and awkward; constantly innocently stiff. But even those first pulsions of awakening had been nothing compared to the urges that roared in Arthur this day.

Arthur was no virgin. 

He knew well the pleasures of the flesh. Many a maiden had graced the royal bed for a night. Some, he’d even taken in the straw of the stables, and once in the wine-cellar at the tavern. 

It was expected.

Arthur was a noble, the future King.

He could have taken as he pleased, but Arthur rather fancied himself a romantic. He took care of his lovers; pride filled him with the wanton noises that escaped plump lips, satisfaction bloomed at the crinkly bud of a flushed nipple. Arthur most enjoyed watching the lovely arching of a supple spine in the throes of pleasure, grinned when his name was moaned in ecstasy.

He had a reputation. 

And it pleased him greatly.

Arthur also knew the joys of men. 

It was less spoken of, but he’d been on campaign several times so of course… That was just the way things were, far from home and the comforts of the castle.

Besides, warmth and tightness around the Royal Rod felt good, whether the hole belonged to man or woman.

Still, this was different.

Despite all his experience in bedding both knight and maiden, Arthur had never before been completely overwhelmed by carnal desires. Arthur felt randy this day. All week in fact, with a worrying ever-increasing intensity.

But no, it was not just randiness.

It was more than that, so much more.

It was *readiness*.

An all encompassing, overpowering roaring readiness to fill the emptiness inside.

As much as Arthur had tried to convince himself of the opposite at first, he was now in such a state he could no longer pretend. He did not feel any satisfaction at the thought of pumping furiously into a soft maiden. In fact, the idea was vaguely repulsive.

No, the Prince had run from the castle because of a different desire. 

Fled from the crazed urges, ran because he no longer trusted his ability to resist.

Because he yearned, with a ferocious intensity. 

Yearned to be mounted, impaled and filled; totally completely *shamefully* used.

Just the night before, it had taken all of his will power not to simply throw himself at his man-servant's feet and beg to be taken. It had been excruciating to stand by the window and make himself order Merlin out of the room. If he'd stayed, if Arthur had been less stubborn...

A passing bluebird watched him stumble again, knees weak at the thought of what might have happened. 

Arthur pressed a hand to his belly, near where his member twitched. He wasn't all that hard, but he *hurt* from the sheer constant never-ending tension. 

***

The commander in Arthur was still capable of objectively analyzing the situation; he’d been trained from birth to ignore discomfort and see the greater picture. 

It was quite obvious that Arthur’s wandering walk in the forest was coming to an end.

Even if he was physically capable of going on, and he seriously doubted it, night was falling fast. It was dangerous at night in the woods, even when you were fully alert and aware of your surroundings. 

Which Arthur certainly wasn’t.

So a strategic decision was made. 

Arthur knew of a shallow cave nearby:he would spend the night there. 

Hope against hope the madness would have passed come morning.

There was nothing else he could do.

He would settle and wait to die of lust.

Or something.

Why would the hopeful thought of Merlin rescuing him yet again make Arthur's heart pound so?

***

Heading in the general direction of the cave, Arthur stopped every so often along the way to gather dry branches.

A fire would be nice.

Even if the fires in his groin burned brighter than any tree branch ever could.

Arthur had to steel himself before he bent over to grab the kindling. 

Dig deep into himself and his soldier’s training. 

Grind his teeth and huff through his nose.

Bending over made his leather pants stretch against his buttocks. It just felt so… right. A jolt of want washed Arthur whenever he leaned over, the position so natural it was a struggle to push upright and continue.

***

Arthur was quite proud when, an hour later, he was all settled by the cave. A nice little fire crackled, sending shifting shapes on the tree trunks around him. Arthur hadn’t any food with him, but he couldn’t have eaten even if he did.

There was a hard lump in his throat, and the unease had grown to the point where Arthur felt feverish. 

Time slipped and stretched, golden flares and pinpoint stars and the relentless throbbing.

Arthur was hot.

So hot.

So so hot. 

He was *burning* up.

He thought he moaned, and couldn’t care to stop himself. Alone in the dark woods, Arthur let his control slip. Allowed himself to writhe a bit, a distressed twisting that didn’t appease the beastly needs at all.

Remembering his flask of wine, Arthur discovered he had been wrong; he could indeed still swallow. He spilled some of the dark liquid when a particularly strong shiver wracked him. Absently watched a runny purple stream that blended into his chest hair.

Wait, when had he removed his shirt? 

Arthur didn’t remember, and anyway it hadn’t helped at all. 

So so very hot.

Sweat covered Arthur, rolled down his neck. Made his leather breeches stick uncomfortably to his ass.

The night air only served to tighten his nipples, it did not cool Arthur at all. 

Arthur vaguely realized he was on all fours again, hips rolling helplessly. His cheeks burned with shame, the rosy blush yet another fire that consumed him.

He groaned, curling a hand around the stout leather of his belt.

Time passed again, inconsistent. 

Arthur fed the fire, drank more wine and tried to simply survive the terrible urges.

If he could have walked, Arthur might have headed back to the village in his delirious state, thrown himself at the first man he saw.

As it was, he curled into himself by the fire. 

Watched the embers blur as tears of frustration gathered in his eyes and were blinked away.

Arthur no longer cared if he showed weakness, alone by the dark entrance of the cave.

He had no dignity left.

None.

He just wanted… 

NEEDED… 

The terrible pressure to end... 

***

A branch cracked, the sound spearing through Arthur’s self-pity party and rousing him a bit. 

Probably an animal. 

Another creak. Definitely the sound of walking.

Arthur pushed himself into a crouch; searched through blurred vision for his sword.

Bandits. 

Or wolves.

Arthur would fight. He had too.

He was the Crown Prince.

He didn’t know how he would bear to do it, but he wouldn’t die without a fight. 

A shape appeared in the firelight.

A tall, gangly form; not very impressive for a thief. Arthur would have laughed, if only he’d been able to stand straight.

Arthur squinted.

The form was familiar. 

Comforting.

Terrifying.

Need inflamed then, consumed Arthur so completely black stars danced in his vision.

‘’Mer-huh-lin…’’ Arthur gasped; a rough, tortured sound.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
MERLIN

Merlin watched as Arthur toppled over sideways.

It was all right.

Arthur was safe. And now that Merlin was there, that Merlin KNEW what was wrong, he would help him.

He pulsed in his pants, ferociously.

Yes.

Arthur was his. 

Merlin might have growled for the third time that day.


	3. In heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the warnings are needed. 
> 
> NSFW. 
> 
> Contains graphic depictions of slashy sex. Also, if you're unfamiliar with Alpha-Omega verse; a special heads up for male self-lubrication. I imagine it would be pretty weird to come across it unwarned the first time, although it's pretty much standard for this kink.

MERLIN AND ARTHUR

‘’I am WHAT?????’’

After the initial shock of seeing his manservant, Arthur’s stubborn nature had won him a short respite. It was all good to wallow when you were alone, but to do so with an audience simply went against all of the Kingly training he’d had.

So Arthur had managed to squat by the fire and listen intently to Merlin.

Perhaps too intently.

He was arrogant and obstinate, so Merlin could almost believe his ‘’nothing wrong here’’ facade. Except now he *knew* the truth and so he noticed the little details that had escaped him all week. 

Arthur’s eyes were glazed, he wore no shirt and he rocked constantly, rolling on the balls of his feet. His square jaw was set and his hands twisted fitfully and it just made Merlin NEED to appease his Prince.

‘’I said, I mean Gaius said… that you’re in heat.’’

It didn’t sound any better the second time Merlin said it, and he could feel his ears turn red. Merlin continued his awkward explanation when Arthur didn’t shout again.

‘’He’s almost certain that’s what the issue is. Gaius thinks that those Ladies of the Trees last week caused it…’’ 

Arthur’s eyes flashed at this. 

He swallowed, trying to make his foggy mind reach the logical conclusion.

Merlin closed his eyes briefly to contain the burst of desire at the sight of Arthur’s Adam’s-apple bobbing. He could feel his control slipping. The sight –the SMELL of Arthur was overwhelming in the clearing. Merlin could practically taste it, though that might have been because he was breathing through his mouth.

‘’Sorcellery?’’ Arthur’s tone was resigned.

‘’Maybe.’’ Merlin agreed. ‘’Or mayhap it was something put in your goblet, since you and I are the only ones affected.’’

It took a moment for Arthur to realize what Merlin had just said.

‘’You?’’ The look Arthur sent Merlin was joyful; hopeful unguarded blue. ‘’You’re in heat too?’’

Not being the only one affected comforted Arthur; made him feel less like a freak of nature, a weakling.

‘’Um, not exactly.’’ Merlin had been staring into the woods, and now his eyes locked on Arthur’s face. His voice was soft when he continued. ‘’I… I’m more like the… the stallion than the mare if you get what I mean.’’

Merlin had never, never thought he would one day have to speak of such things with the Prince. 

It was only because he needed Arthur to understand so he could proceed with the next part that he stumbled and blushed through the explanation.

And because his prick kicked hard in his pants at the thought of mounting Arthur like a stallion, Merlin couldn’t really help the wince and the instinctive flit of a hand towards his belt.

Arthur was frozen for a moment, staring back. His gaze had followed Merlin’s aborted hand motion and his eyes widened. 

The sound that escaped Arthur at the sight of Merlin bulging his laces was pretty much a whimper. A few heartbeats passed, then he slowly waddled sideways, closer to Merlin.

Magnets, irresistibly pulled together.

Something softened in Arthur. The hardness of fight went out of his strong features, the tension in his curled frame eased. 

No words were spoken, but Merlin KNEW the second Arthur stopped resisting. The unease at the overpowering urges, the frantic resistance, were replaced with weary acceptance of the inevitable. 

Merlin’s heart pounded wildly and anticipation rolled in his belly.

Finally.

It was time to relieve them both from the fever of Arthur’s heat… 

***

Arthur sidled closer until eventually their arms were just barely touching. 

It was an awkward moment. 

How did they start things? 

How did you go from Prince and manservant to lovers? Or perhaps a more accurate characterization would be: from haughty proud pighead and awkward stubborn peasant to ‘’If I don’t get myself inside you right this minute we’ll both die.’’

Both men uncomfortably stared into the campfire, vibrating with too much tension yet lacking the initial spark needed to erase insecurities and plunge them into the unknown.

Eventually, Arthur broke the silence 

‘’How did you find me, anyway?’’ Arthur’s voice was rough and gritty, his chest rising in short pants. 

Merlin leaned closer to Arthur, his own voice none too steady as he admitted;‘’Your smell…’’ 

Merlin pressed his nose closer as he said this. 

Eyes half closed, he finally allowed himself to really *inhale* Arthur.

This close, the scent was even more intoxicating. Musk and woods and sun-baked boy; wildly enticing. 

Merlin traced his nose along Arthur’s neck. Here the smell was sweeter, softer somehow; blending with the herbal scent of the soap Arthur used on his hair.

Arthur’s eyelids drooped as Merlin snuggled closer, lips barely touching golden skin in the wake of his nose. Arthur shivered, goose-bumps racing down his chest at the tickling sensation.

‘’I followed your smell…’’ Merlin’s words were dreamy, breathed into the skin under Arthur’s jaw where he was now nuzzling. ‘’You’ve been driving me mad all week…’’

Suddenly, Merlin’s hands were in Arthur’s hair, twisting into the softness and pulling him closer. Arthur grunted. Because now Merlin was breathing in his ear and all of Arthur’s attention focused on the sensation.

And yes, now Merlin was *licking* the shell of Arthur’s ear, a tickly sensation that made him moan.

Merlin was almost delicate at first.

His dainty licks soon dissolved into reckless slurps though. Merlin’s hot breath, ragged and growly, was rough in Arthur’s ear. His fingers still gripped, painfully tight in the royal curls, holding Arthur in place- as though he would go anywhere. 

Arthur couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was so aroused his chest was tight and then Merlin’s tongue was *in* his ear, spearing wet and deep and it was such a relief that Arthur arched as he moaned, loud and hearty.

Gods.

Merlin pulled away, panting. 

Arthur was still reeling when he was roughly pushed onto his back; ouch- there was a rock in his side and then suddenly Merlin’s cloak under him but Arthur was too foggy to concentrate...

Arthur was loose and pliant beneath Merlin’s fumbling caresses. 

The Prince allowed Merlin to do as he pleased; watched through blond eyelashes as Merlin boldly explored Arthur’s pectorals and then -Oh Gods- he was licking Arthur’s collarbone and Arthur suspected he was sniffing him again. 

Merlin’s fingers trailed along Arthur’s chest, squeezed a sweaty biceps hard, and how had Arthur never noticed that Merlin’s hands were so BIG? 

Fine-boned but strong and with looongg fingers.

Then there was tugging at Arthur’s laces and he held his breath when the night air caressed his overheated manhood. Merlin simply stared at first, watched how the head flared and blood pumped steadily through the distended muscle.

Merlin's nostrils flared and he moaned a bit and his first lick was almost tentative. 

The movement was unsure enough that Arthur wondered if he’d ever – and then Merlin just swallowed him down, all the way and Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head as all thought disappeared.

Merlin’s ministrations were rather desperate. He tongued feverishly, sucking hard on the head. His freakishly long fingers squeezed and tugged Arthur’s sack. Merlin choked a bit when suddenly he was inhaling Arthur’s erection all the way to the base again but it didn’t diminish his ardor in the least.

Arthur twisted and grabbed at the cloak, wracked with intense sensations until it was just too much. 

Close, so close... but Arthur just couldn’t go over! 

Every throb, every lick just stoked the fire. 

The fire- at his backside. 

Arthur felt swollen, humid and hot, the need to be stretched back there unbearable. He groaned, deep in his chest; Arthur really really needed to spend. 

Merlin certainly was doing his best to push him over but instead of curling tight in his bollocks as usual, the ache just spread; slithered up Arthur’s spine and pooled in his belly, cramping painfully. 

Frustrated, Arthur rolled his hips, sweating and tantalizingly close. 

He grunted at the acute intensity of sensation – so so intense. 

Too intense and with a tortured gasp Arthur wrenched Merlin off his manhood with a fist in his hair.

Merlin stared back at him, lips shiny and eyes half-lidded, golden firelight flickering over his features.

He cleared his throat, asking gruffly ‘’Don’t you want to…’’

Arthur laughed; a tense huff. 

‘’’Do I want to? Merlin,’’ he added seriously, ‘’I would give my sword; I would give my crown; I would give my whole darn kingdom away right now to be relieved.’’ 

His hips bucked hard, once, in confirmation. A fine thread of fluid trailed from the hard head of his pick to his quivering abs. Merlin swallowed down a moan at the sight.

Arthur’s mouth twisted, a harsh expression, as he continued ‘’Merlin, you twat, I just… I caaan’t.’’ 

And Arthur didn’t mean to whine, not really, but it came out sounding petulant anyway. He was just so helpless, unable to relieve himself, and Arthur hated not getting what he needed and apparently even Merlin couldn’t help and Arthur might just die of frustration...

Merlin moved over Arthur, mouthing at his lips soothingly and Arthur changed his mind. The absence of contact on his member was decidedly worse than the I-can’t-get-off swallowing.

Arthur whined, noisily now, twisting on Merlin’s cloak. His head trashed from side to side and his legs folded up impulsively.

Demanding.

Offering.

Merlin ran a hand down the back of Arthur’s thigh, appreciating the hard muscle. So hot; Merlin’s hand could feel the overheated skin radiating as he caressed the firm globe of Arthur’s offered behind. 

Leaning back, Merlin forgot to use his brains –as usual, Gaius would have said. Merlin realized he’d slapped the strong flesh only when the muffled thump sounded loud in his ears.

Merlin bit his lip, stammering excuses and certain he would spend the next couple of days dodging rotten vegetables in the stocks for his insolence.

But instead of getting angry, Arthur moaned loudly. His head fell back with a thunk, and he hooked his hand behind his knees. As Merlin’s racing heartbeat calmed, Arthur impatiently rolled his hips.

‘’You’re so built!’’ Merlin whispered. ‘’So strong.’’

He kneaded Arthur’s arse-cheeks through the stretched leather of his breeches. 

‘’I can smell you.’’ He announced, choking a little. 

As Merlin bent his face closer to Arthur’s crotch, Arthur suddenly froze. 

From wanton moaning twisting offered, he completely stopped all movement.

***

Arthur's head rose up to stare with burning intensity at Merlin. His pupils were blown and his strong mouth was parted but he was frowning.

So Merlin stopped too.

Arthur seemed to turn red, although it was hard to tell with the firelight and the fact he was already covered in sweat.

‘’ Merlin. I… ‘’ Arthur licked his lips and Merlin very nearly forgot they were at a stalemate and attacked him. ‘’ Merlin.’’

Arthur huffed another short laugh, before admitting. ‘’Something is wrong.’’

‘’ It… it is? ‘’ Merlin felt his stomach sink at this. He couldn’t very well molest his Prince and friend. Surely Arthur couldn’t, just couldn’t change his mind *now*, could he?

‘’ What did I do?’’ Merlin’s voice was flat, resigned.

‘’You?’’ Arthur laughed for real then, head thrown back and staring at the stars so far away.

His abs shook and that made his heavy prick jiggle and Merlin was seriously considering just leaning back in and beginning again when Arthur sobered just as quickly.

‘’It’s not you. It’s me.’’ Then in a rush of slurred words. ‘’ I… I’m leaking.’’

Merlin stared at him blankly.

‘’Back there.’’ And Arthur splayed his fingers wide on the royal behind, indicating exactly where the problem was. 

‘’I’m sooo aroused, been like that all week and it just keeps building… At first I didn’t think much of it, it wasn’t too bad.’’ 

Arthur gulped, chin jutting defiantly as he proclaimed. ‘’I’m sure of it now. Absolutely positive, and it’s embarrassing… but… I really am leaking, I’m just that ready.’’

Merlin made a choked sound at this, his expression so hungry Arthur forgot to breathe.

‘’Let me see.’’ 

Merlin’s voice was thick and toneless. ''Arthur, let me see.''

Then Merlin's hands were scrabbling at the leather pants and Arthur was helping him because the darn things stuck to his clammy skin and then the night breeze was on him and…

Merlin looked positively fevered whilst Arthur spread himself, hiding his flushed face with a bent arm as he allowed himself to be inspected.

Prince Arthur was right; he was wetting.

Quite a lot.

Merlin simply moved his face closer and breathed, until Arthur was keening a bit at the scrutiny.

His arsehole throbbed at the emptiness, swollen and shiny.

As Merlin watched, it clenched and released, a drip of fresh lubrication slowly sliding out. It sparkled, clear and thick in the firelight and there was no doubt the smell came from here. The scent of Arthur was so intense that Merlin’s head spun.

‘’Oh.’’ The sound Merlin made was helpless, fascinated.

Arthur, meanwhile, was moaning constantly and not even seeming to be aware he was doing it. His eyes were screwed shut and conflicted emotions flitted over his features. 

Ashamed.

Aroused, so desperately aroused. 

A hint of pride?

And that defiant ‘’I don’t care’’ attitude that was meant to cover a soft spot of insecurity.

Merlin, however, couldn’t exactly concentrate on Arthur’s *face*, not with the spectacle he offered below.

Merlin reached a shaky finger towards the crevice between those defined muscles, watched how Arthur’s hole pulsed. 

So needy.

‘’Please.’’ Arthur’s panting was frantic.

‘’So pretty…’’ Merlin was entranced, and he slowly leaned forward. 

And Arthur wanted to laugh, because it was just ridiculous to call a man’s hole pretty, except the thought floated helplessly, disconnected. Logic disjointed from bodily sensations.

Then Merlin was *tasting* Arthur’s secretions and the feel of his tongue- right there, where the Prince was so ripe and swollen….

Merlin licked tentatively at first, then more and more enthusiastically. Long wet swipes that pressed on sensitive flesh and spread the wetness until the soft hairs in Arthur’s crack were matted down and he was going out of his mind.

If only Merlin would stick his tongue in, fill the pulsing ache somewhat, maybe Arthur would feel better. He’d never had a man in him before, but at the moment his lack of experience wasn’t worrying at all. Arthur was going to enjoy it. 

It was inevitable. 

Because of the heat, because it was Merlin, because he had waited so long. 

Arthur bit his lip to keep from begging. Fortunately, the expression on his manservant's expression pretty much reflected his own. Thank the Gods for that!

Merlin groaned, pushing the hair from his forehead then fumbling with his pants with his left hand. His right hand remained on Arthur’s arse. 

Merlin couldn’t bear to stop touching Arthur for one second, needed the connection like air, like life. 

Merlin’s thumb spread Arthur’s hole, obscenely making a dark shadow appear in the center of puffy pinkness.

The spike of lust in Merlin in response to that sight caused a full-body shudder, it was so strong.

Arthur still seemed embarrassed to be wetting, but his voice was carefree when he declared, ever practical. 

‘’Well, at least we won’t need the oil you brought.’’ 

‘’Hmmm…’’ was Merlin’s elaborate answer. Getting his erection out of his pants was turning into an impossible mission, one-handed, and when had that knot formed in his laces and Merlin was only half listening to Arthur anyway- as usual.

Losing patience with his laces, the sorcerer mumbled a few choice syllables under his breath and stared down so Arthur didn’t see the quick flash of gold. 

Finally.

It was only once Merlin got around to positioning himself between Arthur’s thighs that the words sank in.

‘’Oil?’’

‘’Yes.’’ Arthur huffed impatiently, licking his wide lips. Enough stalling, the sight of Merlin’s formidable rod was making Arthur’s mouth water and other parts throb in anticipation. Merlin was really well-endowed, and Arthur didn’t know why he was surprised. He had never really thought of his servant like that. 

Never noticed things. 

Things like the long fingers, or the big ears. 

The huge member.

Ok, not the ears, THOSE were hard to miss. 

Why was he looking at Arthur like that, all wide-eyed questioning instead of just sticking it in, yeah?

Oh, right.

Arthur’s explanation was rushed and clipped and clearly meant Merlin was an idiot. 

‘’Oil. You know, oil. To make things slip. Because men aren’t like girls and if you want to even get in, you need…’’ Merlin was just staring, blank-faced.

‘’You know, never mind.’’

Arthur rolled his hips, wondering if he needed to send out an invitation on fine parchment with the royal seal before Merlin actually took him.

Just as Merlin’s rod began to press against him, Arthur had a thought.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he asked urgently.

‘’Merlin, you have bedded men before rii-aaaahh…’’

The question garbled into a sound of need at the sudden tearing sensation of Merlin penetrating the prince.

Arthur filed the surprisingly vulnerable expression he’d glimpsed on his dark-haired friend for later pondering. At the moment, Arthur couldn’t keep his eyes open, unlike his mouth and he certainly couldn’t think.

Only feel.

Feel how hard and long Merlin was, sliding slowly into Arthur’s ass. Feel how his insides seemed to shift, to wrap themselves around him so naturally.

It was as though something relaxed inside Arthur.

Yes.

This was what he needed, a clenched fist relaxed. 

A cozy warmth spread up his belly and Arthur realized his thighs were resting on Merlin’s. 

Arthur smiled, a lazy wanton expression that made Merlin moan.

Merlin pulled back, and then his hips rocked forward. 

Arthur’s features twisted and he arched, a beautiful bow backward, all hard muscle and jutting ribcage. Merlin could only stare in awe and then Arthur *clenched* around Merlin, so hard it had to hurt him. 

Arthur’s prick erupted then, kicked hard between them, untouched, and spewed thick milky juices all over Arthur’s chest.

Merlin’s hips moved too, instinctively driving forward and forcing Arthur to draw a breath so he could groan as he jerked again.

When it was over, Merlin reached a wondering finger to lightly touch the fluid –so much of it- that glittered in long stripes on Arthur’s golden skin.

''Beautiful...'' Merlin breathed the word to the moon. 

With a hungry expression, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist, hard and then he was sucking three of Merlin’s fingers. His mouth was so warm and *wet*. The suckling made Merlin’s breath catch and he could feel Arthur’s tongue too, wiggly and strong, poking between his index and middle fingers.

It was the type of thing that might have been ridiculous, might have been too much except right then, after Arthur’s spectacular orgasm and with Merlin still planted deep inside him, it stemmed straight from deep deep pulsions and it wasn’t funny, wasn’t funny at all.

Merlin began to move again, taking Arthur’s ass with strokes that grew more and more firm.

Merlin purposely bit his lip and kept his mouth shut; it was clear that any words he might utter would just ruin the magical moment.

And Arthur seemed too out of it to even be capable of forming words.

His face was blissfully lax, eyes mostly shut in satisfied pleasure.

He grunted a bit when Merlin bottomed out, but didn’t in any way resist the intrusion. In fact, he frowned when Merlin slowed his movements down and so Merlin sped up again, into a deep thrusting rhythm.

Merlin wrapped his hands around Arthur’s hips and watched his slick rod sinking between the royal arse-cheeks.

Arthur’s orgasm had produced even more lubrication inside his channel; it dripped down and made Merlin’s balls sticky. When Merlin placed Arthur’s legs on his shoulders, his movements produced the most depraved squelching sound, ever.

The new position was good. Merlin could move more freely like this; really pound into the prince. 

Arthur’s eyes opened and he moaned with every thrust. 

As seen from Arthur’s perspective, Merlin was simply glorious above him. 

Blotchy spots of redness spread down his pale cheeks and marked his neck.

His servant was slim, ridiculously gawky, but with his clothing off Arthur could see tight muscle all over. 

Merlin was wiry, tireless as he worked Arthur’s ass. 

The sprinkling of dark hairs on his chest was something of a surprise, because Arthur had expected the hairless smoothness of youth. 

But Merlin was man, all man, and he knew just how to drive into Arthur; strong and possessive and just right.

Finally soothing them both, fulfilling the whirlwind urges created by Arthur's unexpected heat.

***  
Merlin frowned and his rhythm faltered. 

Arthur’s limp legs were heavy to hold up and the position wasn’t exactly right. 

Merlin wanted to move more, wanted to move faster; needed to move deeper and bury himself fully in Arthur.

Merlin pulled almost all the way out, meaning to pound back in and instead nearly slipped out. The angle was wrong and Merlin’s dick bent uncomfortably and Arthur hissed with a wince.

Merlin stopped moving, dark hair sticking to his forehead and took great heaving breaths. He couldn’t find the words to explain that it wasn’t enough, when Arthur had already given so much. That Merlin greedily wanted more; needed to really *take* Arthur.

Arthur had somewhat revived from his passive stupor. He pushed himself to a sitting position, disengaging them with a wet plop.

As Merlin began to protest, Arthur shut him up with a kiss. Sloppy and passionate and comforting.

Then he shifted and rolled over and Gods…

Arthur was on all fours and offering himself to Merlin in the flickering light of the dying campfire.

Merlin trailed a hand down that strong spine, a soft caress of wonder.

Then Merlin growled again, for the final time that day.

And he sank his manhood back into Arthur’s greedy hole, until they were fully joined.

This, now THIS was what he, what *they*, had needed.

Arthur rocked into Merlin’s hard strokes; mewling and head hanging heavy between angular shoulder blades.

In a delayed surge of compassion, Merlin realized he should probably stroke Arthur’s member too, since his own was so well stimulated by Arthur’s insides.

It was easy to reach a hand underneath Arthur’s belly; it didn’t even affect his rhythm. 

Merlin was quite surprised to find Arthur’s manhood soft and jiggling in time to his in-and-out motions. Arthur truly seemed to be enjoying the penetration, if the sounds that poured from him were any indication.

Merlin wrapped his fingers in a ring around Arthur’s flexible shaft, pulling in a mindless move he used on himself to get things started.

Arthur shuddered, and then his blunt fingers were wrapping around Merlin’s on his prick and that was just *hot*.

But no, Arthur wasn’t helping Merlin tug him to hardness. His fingers tangled in his lover’s, then Arthur was carefully prying them off. Arthur curled both their hands around his soft genitals, a little cage of fingers with a loose sack and dormant manhood nestled inside.

‘Just like this.’’ Arthur whispered, dark dark eyes staring into Merlin's over his shoulder.

Merlin pursed his lips, not really sure he got it but trusting Arthur enough to go along with his strange fancy.

So Merlin settled into stroking again, long smooth thrusts.

He understood then.

The contrast between his own throbbing member; so hard and straight, piercing deep into Arthur.

Arthur’s little sleeping thing, so silky and warm that nudged against Merlin’s palm.

Arthur’s hand soon left Merlin’s to cradle him alone, this way he better brace himself against the pounding he was taking.

That… that was true submission, a beautiful vulnerability that Arthur wordlessly trusted Merlin to share.

It was precious, a sparkling pure emotion that Merlin couldn’t think too long about or his eyes prickled and his throat felt tight.

Merlin would honor that trust. He would. He knew how much Arthur hated to admit weakness; that he willingly exposed himself like this was a dazzling unexpected gift to be treasured.

Merlin’s strokes grew different; still as determined yet also caring. Expressing through movement what the servant would never allow his words to spill. 

Let me take care of you. 

I am yours. 

You are mine.

***

Time distorted again.

Time was now counted in staggered heartbeats. 

Was counted in open-mouthed moans and pounding thrusts. 

Was counted in wet breaths and clutching fingers.

Merlin’s release was growing now. 

He had taken all Arthur offered. 

Now he would mark him as owned.

Arthur seemed to sense the change in the energy that crackled between them. His manhood grew, swelling fast until Merlin could no longer contain it between his fingers. Merlin stroked it, rather amazed at the transformation. Moments ago, it had been inoffensive and soft; now it raged as hard and throbbing as Merlin’s.

As Merlin’s release loomed ever closer, it became harder for him to think of anything else. 

A great storm brewed, clouds of lust churning. 

Merlin’s magic was swelling too, distracting because he really just wanted to let it loose and couldn’t.

The need to reign his powers in took all of Merlin’s energy, and he slowed his pumping. 

With a groan, Arthur pushed Merlin’s useless fingers from their loose grip around his shaft.

Stroking himself fast and satisfying, Arthur was relieved to feel Merlin start moving into him again. 

Yes.

Merlin’s strokes were shorter, more focused. His breath tore from his lungs in hoarse bursts. Merlin’s orgasm curled ever tighter in his groin; his magic roared through his veins. 

Merlin made a choked sound, torn. He needed to release his seed, had never been so hard in his life. Yet he couldn’t, couldn’t let Arthur know about his powers and all that swirling energy just wouldn’t stay contained if Merlin let his guard down. 

Teeth gritted, Merlin teetered on a knife’s edge. He knew his eyes already swirled with telltale gold and if Arthur so much as glanced back…

And then something unexpected happened; Merlin felt magic- inside his prick. 

Not his magic; strange magic. 

Foreign magic that uncoiled from the base of his rod and Merlin felt himself start to *swell*.

Several things happened at once.

Arthur groaned, and jolted and Merlin knew he was coming again.

Merlin’s manhood was growing bigger, intense pressure rising inside.

Merlin’s own magic reacted instinctively to the attack. His powers concentrated and pierced through the feeble green web that wrapped around his shaft.

With a flash of gold and an acute burning sensation, Merlin’s magic obliterated the other.

A sudden rush of wind swirled the leaves around them and made the fire flare day-bright but Merlin saw nothing of this as his eyes finally fell shut. 

Finally.

Merlin spilled, in a warm liquid rush. Spilled inside Arthur, filled him with spurt after spurt of seed. 

It felt like the very essence of his soul was pulled from him and was greedily swallowed by Arthur’s trembling body.

Mine.

Finally.

It left Merlin gasping; breathless and weak, shaking with residual tremors.

Arthur made a feeble sound, that might have been ‘’Merlin’’.

Lovely.

Lovely Arthur, marked and soiled by Merlin. A thick dribbled escaped his ravaged hole when Merlin eventually pulled out to collapse beside his lover.

Spent. 

Together.

Arthur was already half asleep and he never noticed how his cloak came floating through the air to cover them snuggly.

Merlin closed his eyes too, a satisfied smile floating on his lips. He tugged Arthur closer, heaving a deep breath of that maddening smell. 

Arthur’s heat.

Finally appeased.

***


	4. The Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a hint of plot that worked it's way in...

THE LADY

 

‘’They will sleep now.’’

The centaur’s voice was a deep rumble, respectful despite a hint of impatience.

The Lady looked on a moment more anyway. What was time to her? The moonlight reflected in her silky hair, still midnight black after several centuries. Her skin was milky pure, mildly luminescent in the shadows of the ancient grove.

With a sigh and a wave of her delicate hand, the water of the looking pool rippled and the form of two curled bodies was replaced by the reflected sphere of the moon.

‘’You enjoyed that.’’

It was a statement, not a question, but the Lady answered anyway.

‘’Yes. I did. Humans are so… distracting.’’ Her tinkling laugh echoed, the pale column of her throat perfect and straight.

‘’They are… unpredictable.’’ And coming from the Lady, it was a compliment of the utmost sincerity.

‘’Who would have thought the princelling would share his cup? And even then, I expected he would be the one to take the other.’’

The centaur’s broad head nodded in agreement. ‘’The dark-haired one, now he’s a scrawny thing. Wouldn’t have thought of him as the sire.’’

The Enchantress added : ‘’Or that they would fight it so long, and manage to be exclusive too.’’ 

The Lady’s eyebrow arched and the centaur grinned because he knew how she enjoyed watching a King in heat being taken by all of his guard.

‘’Still, I believe this was even better…’’ The Lady’s firm breasts heaved in the square cut of her gauze dress. ‘’He used magic to stop the final knotting!’’

She didn’t seem angry to have been outplayed, rather pleasantly surprised at the unexpected turn.

‘’Power like that is dangerous.’’ The centaur shivered with coiled tension, years of military training prompting an urge to eliminate the potential threat.

‘’Be at ease.’’ The Lady’s soft caress on a strong haunch was followed by scratching exactly where he liked it best. ‘’He is young still.’’

The centaur grunted, distracted by her touch.

‘’We will monitor him.’’ The Lady accommodated her warrior companion in a lilting voice, knowing that otherwise he would continue to balk.

The Lady’s nails dragged through short fur, heading towards the Centaur’s underbelly.

His head tossed, powerful breath huffing over her shoulder.

‘’Did you notice the best part, when we had them at our table?’’

The centaur snorted, and stamped a hoof. He was fully engorged now, but he wouldn’t give in to the graceless contortions required for his human arms to be able to reach his formidable shaft.

‘’Of course you didn’t.’’ The Lady laughed again, green eyes shining. ‘’I checked his aura when the Prince fed him the enchanted drink.’’

The centaur’s tail swished when she reached a particularly sensitive spot.

‘’There was that telltale silver line running along the edge. The one that is now gone forever.’’

The centaur answered at last, a gruff exclamation of surprise. ‘’ Really? He was pure before this?’’ 

The Lady’s satisfied chuckle followed a delighted explanation. 

‘’Yes. Untouched. And his first time, he took the future King.’’

The Lady didn’t add that unspoken feelings also complicated the situation wonderfully. Decades with the Centaur had taught her that he had no grasp of such abstract things.

Especially in the state he was in; he’d been remarkably patient through it all.

With a delicate gasp, the Lady gracefully knelt beneath her Captain’s strong belly. She reached for the quivering two foot-long horse-dick that bobbed before her.

Oh yes.

Time to reward him. 

And her.

Any lingering thoughts of the two humans fled.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was quite fun to write! I am officially Merlin de-virgined... lol Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the original post on LJ here:
> 
> http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35114.html?thread=37900842#t37900842


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